


Rationalizations

by starriestofgates



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 00:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starriestofgates/pseuds/starriestofgates
Summary: Sam argues with herself about her engagement to Pete. And about something else.





	Rationalizations

**Author's Note:**

> I'm garbage at titles and have no idea how tags work on this site. Here is some nice angst for your delectation.

Sam sits at the table in her darkened kitchen, staring absently at her left hand. She doesn’t wear Pete’s ring at work. Too risky, taking an expensive piece of jewelry like that offworld, even if it fell within the acceptable bounds of military dress code, which it doesn’t. If she lost it out there somewhere, what would she tell Pete? He knows what she does for a living, but it would still be terribly inconsiderate to chance losing the ring. Risky, too, given the highly physical nature of her job---it would do her no good to snag the thing on something and break her finger. So she never wears it at work. Sam wonders sometimes what Colonel O’Neill would think if she did. He would probably point out the dress code violation, at least. 

She’s still trying to parse the reaction she got the day she showed it to the colonel, all shiny-pretty in its neat little black box. What she had been expecting from him, she wasn’t sure then and isn’t sure now, but it hadn’t been…that. Whatever that was. Expecting advice, perhaps. The colonel is such a straight shooter, always so good at helping others untangle the knottiest of problems. Not this one, apparently. Not that it matters. Why should it? This is her personal life and her personal decision. Maybe it was a mistake, bringing her dilemma to work at all. She probably shouldn’t have done that. Maintain proper boundaries, Samantha. Only it’s difficult to find those boundaries sometimes, after all these years and all these shared experiences... 

_…Sir, just go…_

_NO!_

Sam flinches away from the memory. 

Think of Pete. Pete, and their future. Marriage, a house. A family home. She will have again the security she lost the day her father came into the kitchen with that look on his face, to tell her that their lives had just been shattered. No more coming home to silence. No more solitude. A base to build a future on. A life outside of work, for real. 

_I distinctly remember ordering you to get a life,_ says the colonel, in her mind. 

_Stop it,_ Sam snaps back, rubbing her forehead. She is going to marry Pete. She is going to marry the man she…loves. Loves! Yes. She mulishly ignores the hesitation in her inner monologue. She is going to be happy, damn it. Going to be happy.

Going to be happy. It will happen. It is happening. It is. Sam tries to summon up some thoughts of clear and present happiness, memories of Pete, dancing together, eating together, walking and talking together, tries to project those memories into the future, into a lifetime together, but she finds that beneath the glassy surface runs a deep and only half-hidden current of uneasiness and a peculiar melancholy, almost like loss. Why?

“No,” she says aloud, and is not certain towards what the denial is directed.

_Something neither of us can admit to…_

_Enough!_

Sam slaps both her palms down violently on the table and rises abruptly, a dull and formless anger swelling in her stomach. The decision has been made. The path has been set. It does no good to sit and muddle over foolish confusions and irrelevances. This future is what she _wants._ A life with Pete is what she _wants._

It _is._

Truly.

_Is it really that you want Pete,_ a still small voice insidiously whispers. _Or is he the blinders you’re holding to your eyes to prevent your seeing something else you want and know you can’t have._

_If you want a life with Pete so much…_

No, stop

_Why did you show the colonel the ring? Why did you bring the matter to him, lay it at his feet? What did you want Colonel O’Neill to do about it, Samantha Carter?_

What did you want Colonel O’Neill to do about it

want him to do

want Jack to do about it

want Jack…

Sam presses the heels of shaking hands to her eyes. 

_…not fair…_

What is “fair?”

“I can’t,” she says aloud to no one. “I can’t.” She gropes her way to the wall, flicks a switch. “Shed a little light on the situation,” she mutters darkly, watching the diamond on her finger sparkle. Absurdly, the lyrics of an old pop song flit through her mind… _this diamond ring doesn’t shine for me anymore…_

“I can’t,” Sam says again. She twists the ring off, scraping her knuckle in the process, scarcely aware of the pain. How she’ll break the news to Pete, she has no idea. She also has no idea what “fair” is in the situation, but she does know that carrying through with the engagement wouldn’t be it. To either of them. What she truly wants, she can’t allow herself to think about, not now at least, it isn’t allowed, but maybe she doesn’t have to, not yet. Maybe all she needs right now is to step back from the mistake she was about to make and just…be, and let everything else just be, too. It isn’t going to be easy, but, thinks Sam, staring down at the tiny bejeweled manacle lying quietly on the table, nothing ever is. 

She leaves it lying there and walks to the living room, throws herself down on the sofa, and turns on the television, and does not allow herself for one moment to be distracted from her shows by wondering what Colonel O’Neill will think when he finds out about the breakup.

Not for even one moment. Not at all.

_fin_


End file.
